


The Quiet Life

by silhouette (thiefless)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Established Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Peter Parker Acting as Morgan Stark's Parental Figure, Platonic Cuddling, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 05:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/silhouette
Summary: Peter was always awake whenever Morgan gently tiptoed into her daddy's room after a bad dream.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 339





	The Quiet Life

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! This was just a tiny plot bunny I couldn't get out of my head. This is just a little drabble type thing, and I know I have my wip to finish, but this one just wouldn't let me go until I finished it. 
> 
> DocHudson has done a fantastic Russian translation which you can find [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9672489)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy :)

Peter was always awake whenever Morgan gently tiptoed into her daddy's room after a bad dream. He would be curled up in her daddy's arms, chest-to-back, and she would see his brown eyes twinkle in the moonlight. Peter always greeted her with a soft smile that made the tight ball of anxiety unclench, always whispered a quiet, " _Hey, Mo_ '," as he reached out a hand to brush away the tears still staining her cheeks.

Tonight was no different. 

"Did you have a bad dream?" Peter whispered, voice calm and soothing. 

Morgan nodded, without saying a word. She didn't have to. Peter knew. 

Her daddy tightened his arm (extra-tight) around Peter as he moved to entangle himself, and she could just about see her daddy burrow his head into Peter's neck. Her daddy seemed to be half on top of him, and she worried that Peter would be crushed under his weight. But then she remembered that Peter was Spider-Man. He was her hero. 

Peter bent over to kiss her daddy's forehead, before quickly writing him a note to say where he'd gone. Peter always did that now; the first time Peter had gone to comfort Morgan, her daddy had awoken in the night and was panicking. But that was okay. Peter comforted him too that night, holding him as he shook, and whispering nonsensical words into his skin. 

(She didn't know why Peter refused to wake him up. Her daddy never failed to wake up when he realised Peter had slipped away from his arms in the dead of night.)

Peter slipped on one of her daddy's old rock band t-shirts, one that her eyes couldn't decipher in the dim light, over his pyjama bottoms, before he gently took her hand in his, and led her back to her room. 

Her eyes were flooded with light when Peter softly flipped her bedroom light on, and she squinted against the unwanted intrusion behind her eyelids. In her haste to get Peter, to run away from the monster clawing its way through her dream, she had scurried in the dark, unable to afford even a single delay. The harsh light was a reminder of her folly, of her stupid childish instincts born out of fear that had led her to go and seek comfort. 

_She was a Stark,_ she chided herself. She wasn't meant to act like a baby every time she had a nightmare. She was nearly eight!

Half-formed apologies died on her tongue as Peter tenderly scooped her up and plopped her down on her bed. His expression was as soft as she'd ever seen it, a look she would hesitantly categorise as one he'd adopted specifically for _her_ , and she felt her anxiety subside somewhat, the knot in her belly unclenching. 

"Hey, Mo'," Peter whispered again, achingly gentle. He perched on the side of her bed, tenderly brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You wanna tell me what your dream was about?"

She froze, shoulders tensing, mind unfortunately flashing to the dream that felt so _vivid_ , so horrendously _real_. Fragments were seared onto her memory banks, of blackened faces and faulty suits, of six gems and the glove that bore them. 

(Her dreams never faltered in recollecting the video feedback of that final fight against Thanos she had sneakily watched when she was five and wondering why her Daddy was ill. The scenes played in a loop to torment her when she was most vulnerable, when she was not in control.)

Thankfully, she was spared from having to answer by Peter's soft sigh. His arms enveloped her then, and she melted into them. Morgan knew he understood; her night terrors had become something of a common occurence after all – but, underneath it all, she knew that he could relate to her pain; the agony of a child's loss never really went away. 

Morgan pressed her face into the junction of Peter's shoulder, hiding from the world and the terrors that threatened her family. Peter carded his fingers through her dark locks, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when incessent footsteps approached from the corridor, growing louder and louder. She couldn't withhold her whimper, and she fisted Peter's shirt, afraid the Boogeyman was out to get her. 

And then her daddy's face came into view. 

"Peter," he rasped, the name coming tortured from his mouth. His eyes raked Peter's form, before moving on to where she lay, bundled up in Peter's arms. 

Her daddy came round the other side of the bed, so that she was sandwiched between them both. She had never felt so safe, so protected. 

"Hey, Maguna," her daddy said, scratchy from sleep. He had lost some of the panic from his voice, too. "Why am I always the last to get the memo?"

His tone invited a lightness she was too heavy to reciprocate. Peter, though, had no problems speaking on his behalf. "You see, I really didn't want to be the one to tell you this..." he paused. Even Morgan was on tenterhooks. "You snore."

Traitorous giggles erupted at the display of indignation that crossed her daddy's face. 

"What an outragous accusation. Absolutely abhorrent. I reject it wholeheartedly." Her daddy's hand joined Peter's atop her head, both sets of fingers tracing nonsensical patterns into her scalp. She felt the tension unfurl with every touch. "Her Majesty agrees with me, right, Maguna?"

Morgan bit her lip. "Sorry, Daddy. I'm with Petey."

She full-on belly laughed at the groan of mock affront. Peter was laughing too, and neither of them were bothering to be subtle about it. He high-fived her with a triumphant grin, and when she turned to guage her daddy's reaction, she was pleasantly surprised by the emotion swimming in his eyes. 

"Traitors," he admonished, in a tone that contrasted the word. 

Peter lay back, stretched out beside her. Her head was still pillowed on her daddy's body. She felt him move an arm to wrap around Peter and draw him in close too. 

For those precious few, so beautifully serene, moments, stolen away on a random night in the lakehouse, all was quiet. 

Her daddy was a talker, a trait she had inherited. Peter was prone to long-winded rambles when nervous, and never shied away from exuberant Star Wars related when provoked – the latter being a characteristic she had been privy to firsthand after she deftly suggested that _The Last Jedi_ really wasn't as bad a film as critics of his generation made it out to be. (Peter's face had been bright pink by the end of it, and both she and her daddy had been struggling to contain their shared giggles.)

The point being: silence was uncommon in their lakehouse. So it made the quiet all the more poignant. 

There was something to be said for solitude in the face of the racing world. 

Morgan didn't remember nodding off, but when she did, she dreamt of love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you guys think! :)


End file.
